


alive.

by volna (seductrce)



Series: tumblr prompts: shadowhunters edition [7]
Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: ALEC DIES! OR DOES HE?, Hurt/Comfort, Immortal Alec Lightwood, M/M, Resurrection, The Dying Experience so be warned, but its in the end finger guns, kinda not really, mildly anti parabatai so be warned there too, this is basically immortality fic tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-14
Updated: 2018-05-14
Packaged: 2019-05-06 22:55:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14657934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seductrce/pseuds/volna
Summary: Dying, a finality? Not if your name's Alec Lightwood.





	alive.

**Author's Note:**

> this was supposed to be angsty for a hellsite prompt but it ended up being...not that lmao so here we are.
> 
> if you feel like it, you should def press play on [this piece](https://open.spotify.com/track/0LY2rbulIArYjGEJozQEir) once you hit "ii. faq: enigma", it works

**i. dying**

 

Now this, Alec decided, was what one would call “definitely suboptimal”.

In hindsight, he should have seen it coming. Been more vigilant, checked over his shoulder more often. Caught the movement before it caught him. Disappointing performance, on his part.

For some reason, he’d never thought this might end up happening to him. 

It was a funny feeling, really - dying.  

How did he miss the attacker? Had he been that distracted? Truth told, the place was still crawling with enemies, at least as far as Alec could tell from where he’d sunk to the floor to bleed out, his useless bow long since having clattered to the ground. He couldn't recall when he'd let go of it, but there it lay as if abandoned, just an arm's length away, so much too far to reach.

There was a rune on him, somewhere, that would have helped a little (or maybe not - he’d never sustained demonic injury as bad as this and the runology books he’d studied hadn’t had much to say about a situation as the one at hand…probably meant situations as the one at hand didn’t end with anyone needing healing runes), but Alec did not remember where, for some odd reason he attributed entirely to the gaping hole through his chest where that serrated staff-like whatever it had been had shredded his thoracic aorta and ripped into his diaphragm. And even if he would have remembered, his arms were too numb to move, anyway. 

It was a funny feeling, really - dying. One moment everything was on fire with the red hot center right where the blood was gushing out- God, there was _so_ much blood. He was laying in a pool of it. Almost made him laugh, that one. There wasn’t enough blood in his stupid, penetrable, humane body to fill even a small pool, let alone a proper one. And yet, here he was. Swimming, drowning in it.

One moment, you’re on fire all over and the next - about a second later only that minutes pass but you can’t really tell - everything starts going cold instead. Not freezing cold, not New York-winter red-nose icy-hands cold. A different kind of cold, like someone let the warmth drip out from _within_ you and you didn’t even notice until it was too late. Which, admittedly, was about what was happening, wasn’t it. 

Again, Alec chuckled, or thought he did but in reality, nothing but a wet pathetic gurgle made its way out. Where the hell was Magnus, anyway?

You see, this was not what Alec had feared when he’d said he’d be gone one day, months ago, standing in the middle of the apothecary. Magnus’ face, painted in colors of sorrow and heartbreak, slipped before his inner eye, which Alec was grateful for since if he couldn’t have the real thing, he’d at least want a memory of him to be the last he’d ever see.

He’d been so sure he would grow old with Magnus. 

Old enough to hear his bones crack with every move and feel his age in ways the iratze couldn’t make better. Old enough to have fake teeth to put in and be in need of a cane to walk around with, all hunched over. Alec wasn’t a fool. He knew his back would kill him one day. Now that he considered, it sort of did, in the end. God, why was everything so damn funny. So awfully terribly funny.  
His eyes burned, unable to form tears that seemed stuck in his throat, but the sensation went unnoticed, buried beneath piles of agony. 

This was not what should have happened. They were supposed to have years. Years and years and years. Enough of them for Magnus to grow sick and tired of kissing him good morning every damn morning, hand to cheek, love warm and brimming like spring sunshine twinkling in his eyes. Enough for a grandkid or two. He’d grown fine with it. He’d been almost ready to accept it, that all they would have were years. But not this. Not _this_.

By now, his bones were chilled marrow and his tiny moonlit circle of a visual field grew smaller and smaller with each passing moment. The dark was closing in the way a hunter did on prey and since Alec was a hunter himself, he knew exactly how much time he had left. Not enough, was the quick diagnosis. Where the hell was Magnus, anyway?

He was sorry for leaving such a mess behind for someone else to clean up, though. Demons were slithering over every available surface, some humanoid and some, less so. The one that got him was still around, Alec could feel it in a far corner to his right but he could not see it for he’d broken down facing the entrance of the huge storage hall he’d run into like a God damn idiot, all by himself, and moving...moving was way beyond anything he could muster anymore. Blinking was taking all he had. Every time he closed his eyes, he knew it might be the last time, and every time opening them back up again took more than so did the one before - like he was being pulled underwater in a promise of eternal comfort; of a strange, wonderful kind of warmth he was so tempted to give into. Like baked soil on a hot summer day.

He used to like playing in the mud when he was four. For the first time since he was nine, Alec distinctly remembered sitting right down in a huge puddle of muck in a garden so big it had no beginning nor end, right onto the naked earth, in an overall of an unblemished creamy yellow, like buttercup or maybe lemon cake, smearing wet dirt on his pant legs and belly and cheeks, laughing at the way it felt in his hands, at the prints he was leaving on his chosen canvas that was himself; laughing at the way his mother had just shaken her head with an exasperated smile when she’d found him, young as she’d been, his baby sister on her hip. 

Where the hell was Magnus, anyway? 

He didn’t have much time, not at all, and he needed to tell him so much, still. A million “I love you”s first on the list, since he had a lifetime of them to deliver, and he wouldn’t be able to do that in person from where he was headed. Alec supposed. And even after a million “I love you”s he wouldn’t have said anything yet. He needed time. Just a little more _time_.  

The dark was overwhelming now, stretching its greedy claws out for him, threatening to swallow him whole. Alec blinked again, but couldn’t see a thing beyond the endless shadows of the night, or hear a thing, not anymore, despite the slithering masses of demons around him, hissing and panting and starved, waiting for his angelic soul to ascend so they could devour his lifeless flesh.  
There was nothing but numbness, and a very peculiar, abiotic cold. Did his body dissolve into the ground without him noticing? He couldn’t feel his heart beating, couldn’t feel it at all - not like it had stopped, more like it was gone, never having been there in the first place. But oh, Alec thought, that was alright. His heart hadn’t been his for so long. It was better protected where it was, anyway. Maybe Magnus could put _that_ in his box, considering it belonged to him.

A last weak gurgle escaped, to laugh at himself and all the stupid things they had argued about, wasting so many precious seconds. It didn’t even matter in the end. Even arguing with Magnus was better than doing anything else, but without him. 

Sweet slumber crept up on him on kitten’s paws, silent and inviting, and Alec couldn’t hold out much longer. He was so tired; all he wanted was to be home, now, fall into a mountain of pillows, pull him close, let sleep take him. If Magnus didn’t find him in time, then this should be his last to remember. The smell of his hair, the feeling of his skin against Alec’s lips, warm and familiar. The way his laughter made Alec feel, the way it rumbled through him and reverberated in Alec until both of them were giggling like children, back to chest and mouth to ear and joy so bright one could mistake it for the sun. The way his hand fit into Alec’s, so perfectly you’d think they were made for each other. 

“Alec!” 

The scream came from everywhere at once and pierced his quiescence; full of panic so tangible, it broke his non-existent heart. _Not this_.

“ALEXANDER!”

Ah, Alec thought, he found me, after all. The very same moment, overwhelming dark was obliterated by heavenly light, and finally, Alec was no longer afraid to let go. It would be okay. He’d fix this. He’d find his way back to his love - he always did. 

 

*

 

 

**ii. faq: enigma**

 

The first thing he noticed, were birds singing. It was a pure, wholesome carillon of sounds, lovely and invigorating - full of life. The next moment, he’d inhaled a lung of dry earth and his eyes shot open.

The birds were quite unimpressed by his violent coughing, and so was the person sitting at a tiny, fragile cast-iron table to Alec’s left, sipping their tea from beautiful china and pretending he wasn’t convulsing with dirt-exhales in immediate proximity. 

Under Alec’s hands forming fists, leaves crunched apart. He was kneeling on all fours on a dry forest floor, wearing nothing one moment, and an overall - yellow as buttercup - the next, white sleeves of the undershirt held way too long. They reached down to cover his fingertips and he rolled them up as he got to his feet, stepping closer to the table laid for two; cautious still, despite the firm belief rooted in his gut that nothing could or would harm him here, wherever ‘here’ was.

The person sitting down wasn’t a person at all. They looked humanoid, alright, dressed in something Alec could not name, but there was a shine about them that made it difficult to look at them and when he did, they resembled no person he’d ever seen. They were distinctly inhuman. Distinctly other.  

“Raziel.”

“Alexander.”

Carefully, Alec settled down on the only - mind uncomfortable - chair left, not sure how he’d known of the Angel’s identity. Just knowing he had. 

“Nobody calls me that.”

“Ah, but that is not quite true, is it?” 

Touché, Alec thought. Anyone but Magnus calling him by his full name, though, and even the Angel itself, tasted sour like spoiled milk. Raziel made a noise, a booming kind of scraping sound, a screeching violin. Laughter, Alec realized. _  
_

_Oh_.

“I know all your thoughts, my child. You do not have to hide yourself from me. I will not use it again.”

 _Okay, then._

For a moment they just sat there, Raziel finishing a never-ending cup of tea, the birds singing cheerfully, and Alec took it to assess his location: an open, light, endless forest of tall birch trees swaying in the most complacent of winds; past autumn’s leaves were covering the ground like a patchwork blanket. The sun was shining, pale gold, from somewhere - its warmth evident and calming - but Alec could not say from where. It was as if the forest was alight in itself.  
A breeze ruffled the treetops above them and kissed at Alec’s bare ankles. His overall was too short in the leg, his feet naked. He’d buried his toes in the earth before he’d noticed and leaned back, taking in the serene peacefulness surrounding him. It was nice. Gentle. Sacred. Safe.

“So, Alec,” Raziel said, and put the finely patterned cup down onto its saucer. “Why are you so reluctant to die?”

The question hit Alec out of nowhere. Everything about the situation made sense to him, somehow, in a way he now realized he’d been aware of his entire lifetime, from the way all aches were gone from his body to the clarity of mind he felt dipped into - but not this. Wasn’t he-

“I thought I am dead.”

“Oh, no.” Raziel folded unnaturally long-fingered hands on the table surface, and examined Alec as if they were conducting a job interview and he was an extraordinarily curious candidate. 

“You’re not dead. Not yet, that is. See, Alec, when Nephilim die, they are usually at peace with themselves. I know that my children are raised into this…belief…by their parents the way their parents’ parents have raised them: that it is their duty to die for the cause of defeating Evil, as they say.  
So, when a child of mine is pulled from the mortal world by means of violence, they have long accepted leaving it behind when they come to my realm, and are escorted right on. They are ready for the next step, the next journey. Not you, though.”

Alec stared for a moment, and then he averted his gaze since looking directly at the Angel was painful in a way he couldn’t quite put into words. As if his soul, touched by the woes of humanity and the burden of life, was not worthy of the sight. He didn’t particularly like the feeling. 

“I-,” and he stopped, unsure what was expected of him. He didn’t understand.

“You refused.”

Raziel leaned back to stretch an arm into the air, hand poised, and something like chuckled - an amused sound that made Alec feel like he was being laughed at for something he’d done, yet didn’t remember doing. Like a drunk night-out, and the particular situation of hang-over breakfast in bed the following morning, sore muscle, and listening to all the shit he’d apparently pulled, fond teasing and corresponding groans waiting to be pressed silent in between two sets of lips. 

“Refused?”

A sparrow landed on the Angel’s finger, knocking its tiny head this way and that, chirping in agitation, as if it had some serious business to settle. Raziel pulled the hand closer, and whispered something into the sparrow’s ear. Alec supposed. The next moment, the bird took flight, twirling up above their heads before heading off in undetermined direction. 

“You don’t remember? No, you don’t, how could you. The Angels in my service, they welcome the souls of dying Nephilim into their hearts, Alec, and take them to the next place, simply speaking. But you wouldn’t go. They tried every method they know of to convince you but you…point-blank refused to move on. Wouldn’t budge. That is why you’re here now, they didn’t know what to do with you.”

‘Wouldn’t budge.’ The way Raziel said it, fascinated and strangely entertained, made it sound like he’d annoyed a whole bunch of Angels to full extent of exasperation in his short time as a not-quite dead man. A grin stole itself onto Alec’s face before he could stop it. Certain people would love to hear about _that_.

“Ah, I see.”

The Angel’s voice cut through Alec’s train of thought, which was essentially imagining Magnus’ snorted laughter when he’d hear about how Alec had flipped off a few of heaven’s bureaucrats for daring to consider he'd allow himself to be carried to the afterlife.  
His brows drew together in another show of confusion.

“I see why you wouldn’t want to go on just yet. The best reason, really; the only one that counts. Name it, Alec. Why do you refuse to die?”

His answer didn’t miss a heartbeat. Somehow, thinking was so much easier here, so much more compliant to detangle. It was as if he didn’t have to do it at all, as if he knew the truth the moment the question was posed. Everything was laid out before him; all he’d ever felt, clear as day, before his soul’s eye. A feeling so strong he could see it stretching on for all eternity, limitless and devoid of doubt - the purest thing he consisted of. 

“Love.”

“Of course.”

Raziel sounded pleased. Alec wondered if that was a good thing.

“Tell me, Alec, do you think your unique presence in the mortal world could bring a change to it we would consider favorable?”

Again, finding the answer was easier than breathing. Alec took a moment to contemplate who exactly ‘we’ was but decided this was not something he was meant to know. Instead, he thought of the Institute, and every last Shadowhunter within it, one hundred and twenty-three names flowing by in an instant. Of his cabinet, that held so much potential, of Madzie, and Cat, and all the Downworlders who were at home in New York, of the responsibility he held before them. Of Valentine, dead, and Luke’s hands around the bastard’s neck. Of Lorenzo Rey, and Imogen Herondale, that old hag, may she rest in peace, and the Clave that he had his own - creative - ideas for if he’d ever get his way with it.  
Of his mother that he’d never abandon, and his brothers and sister; and Underhill, and the things he’d spoken of, stuck in Alec’s head since the day he’d heard them…and then he thought of the man who had the kindest heart Alec had ever known, and of the real shift he knew they could set of by each other's side, if only they would have the time.  
He answered truthfully, and didn't realize he had assumed the Angel's definition of 'favorable' to be his own until it was too late. 

“I do.”

“Good.” 

Raziel leaned back, picked up his teacup, and took a sip. The teapot in front of Alec rose into the air as if by magic, filled his own little cup, and settled back down. He took that as an invitation. As it turned out, the tea was no tea at all, but lukewarm lime lemonade with no sparkle. Alec was unsurprised, yet mildly disgusted. 

A bunny of storm grey coloring scampered past in no hurry, rustling along the underbrush, followed by another one that was spotted like a Dalmatian, ears bent halfway. Alec wondered if this meant he would get to go home. He liked this place for its sincerity, and the way it made him feel lighter than a feather, but all he ended up feeling was longing, to describe it to Magnus, ask if he’d ever seen anything like it before, if they could go there sometime, maybe - portal away from the hassle for an hour or two, and take a walk along invisible sunlit paths only animals took, holding onto each other’s hands, tasting summer on their tongues. 

He wasn’t done yet. He had so much more to experience, so many things to discover, so many years to live. So much to do. 

At some point, he had felt tired enough to believe he was, when mostly everything had been colored in shades ranging from obnoxious over dull to painful, when the future had looked terrifyingly more bleak than the past and he’d gone into fights imagining what it would be like to never return from them, to die a hero’s death so he could be done without bringing shame to his family name. But these days…

These days he had an Institute to run, a home to return to, a family to love…so many restaurants-by-the-sea to visit and pool games to almost-win, so many romance novels to finish and sensational sights to see. He had a wedding to plan for God’s sake. He wasn’t done yet. Not for years and years and years.

Sparkleless lukewarm lime lemonade was better the second time around. Alec emptied his cup with a big gulp and watched the teapot rise once more. There was a plate with what seemed like shortbread cookies in front of him, but he didn’t risk it.

“So-”

“Do you know, Alec, how many Nephilim choose to master the bow?”

Alec’s cup halted on the way to his mouth and his brows shot up. He was one of the few archers he knew of personally; it was a rare enough weapon to choose since it required a calmness and precision a lot of Shadowhunters didn’t have the patience to acquire when more accessible and generally deadlier weapons were available…bow and arrow was synonymous to dedication in its most true form and not many felt that particular calling when they stepped up to claim their arm. On the other hand, he also knew of institutes as close as the mid-west that specialized in archery; he’d always wanted to visit one, test his skills against the best of them.  
He wondered why Raziel was even interested in his answer.

“I don’t.”

“Too little. It’s an Angel’s preferred weapon, the bow. Angelic soldiers always liked it best, favoring long range combat. It’s deadly as any other, if one wants it to be…but you know this, don’t you? What drew you to archery?”

Once more, Alec didn’t quite have to think. Something inside him tingled at Raziel’s words, though. There’d been a time when he had wanted nothing more than to be the perfect soldier, for it was all he could amount to. When functioning according to a certain set of rules had been his whole life. Nothing had been pleasure, everything had been duty. But archery…archery had made his blood sing with the enchanted silver of his arrows. Archery had tasted addictive like battery acid, archery had given him an out when nothing else had, not back then. Archery had combined what Alec had thought to be his most valuable traits with the simple release of loving something with all your heart. Archery had saved his life. His very first passion, the first thing he had ever called his own.  
  
A smile pulled his mouth corners up, up, up. 

“Freedom.”

Raziel nodded. “Good answer.”

The Angel looked at him for a moment, endless and short as a single exhale, and Alec wondered still what this was about. He opened his mouth, but Raziel spoke before a single word of his came out. 

“Well, Alec, there’s another reason you are here right now, apart from your…general stubbornness and reluctance to submit to fate. Do you remember the Greater Evil you banished from the mortal realm?”

This time, though yet again confused by the sudden change in subject, it was Alec who nodded. Below the table, his hand formed into a fist pressing into his thigh and a pang of residual guilt at what had happened back then stabbed into his side. 

“Az-”

“Do not speak its name here, child,” Raziel shushed him and Alec’s mouth snapped shut.  
  
“Words have power beyond anything you can imagine when the air is ripe enough for implications to form. Now, the shot you took then…it was quite remarkable. We were very proud of you.”

There was a softness to Raziel’s voice that stirred a place in Alec he knew existed from too many nights falling asleep with tear stains on his pillowcase. The guilt subsided, released his lungs, and made way for calm once more. He had made mistakes, would make more. He had learned from them and would continue to. Alec looked up at the Angel and this time, kept his gaze steady, despite the discomfort. 

“This particular Evil was after us, Alec, after the artifacts we granted the Nephilim as way to contact us - wishing to use Heaven’s own power to destroy us. Quite cunning, if one considers.”

Raziel made another scraping noise, as if the thought of a Greater Demon lusting for your life was somehow endearing, as long as it was clever. Alec's brows pinched together. Maybe he was more human than he had originally assumed. Maybe that wasn’t too bad a thing, either.

“You prevented it from ever getting that far, and masterfully to boot. We care to thank you. In this case, a favor for a favor is in order, if you so would be willing to accept one here and now. I can fulfill a single wish for you. However,” Raziel's hands moved apart as if in apology, “the only wish I am granted to fulfill is your heart’s one true desire, Alec. Anything else would not have the energy signature to respond to my offer.”

Apprehension, tangible in his now rigid back, took hold of Alec as the Angel spoke, and he tensed, breath halting, leaning forward in his seat. His nails dug into his thigh, painfully so, but he didn’t pay it any mind. Was this really-

“Name it, child, but be correct. What is it you want most?”

_Be correct._

On the exhale, Alec closed his eyes, just for a moment, and turned inward to gaze upon himself. The birdsong grew distant as the gentle rush of wind, lulling him into serenity. 

Alec’s soul was the color of a cloudless summer sky right before dusk. He felt ageless like this, entirely weightless, no stone resting upon his shoulders, no time as a concept reminding him at any given moment that it was running out from beneath his feet. 

The sun was setting on the horizon, reflecting against the pearly dark grey of the ocean stretching as far as he could see, making it mirror to a glimmer so beautiful, so natural, it almost felt real.  
The air tasted of sea salt and content and the sand he was sitting on with his arms hugged around his pulled-up knees belonged to a beach Alec did not recognize but knew he loved; waves were coming in, cadenced and steady, coloring the sand it hit shades upon shades darker with every smooth pull. Alec closed his eyes into a delicate breeze playing with the hair falling across his forehead, and listened to the water’s rise and fall for a long time. At some point he noticed he didn’t have a heartbeat to match.

His heart was missing, or not quite - it was there, beating in the hands of a man sitting right next to him on the sand, legs stretched out and toes as naked as Alec’s. Magnus looked up from the bloody organ pumping in the palms he held cupped in his lap, and smiled at Alec, understanding, and loving, and more beautiful than even the setting sun. There were crinkles around his eyes - Alec loved them so very much he would not ever have the words to recite the intensity of this one feeling. In an exercise of will, he battled down the urge to lean over and push a kiss to his lips. 

“Can we stay here for a while?” he asked instead, a whisper in the settling night, and Magnus nodded, turning his gaze back to the sun disappearing beyond the sea.  
The last of the orange-red sunlight cascaded down his features, and Alec recognized the answer he was looking for in the gentle curve of Magnus’ smile.

“Forever, if you’d like.”

 _Forever_ …slowly, Alec blinked his eyes back open with a flutter of his lashes, and the chirping of the birds pulled him back to the cast-iron table where Raziel was waiting patiently. He cleared his throat, twice, before he spoke.

“In our- where I come from, warlocks- they are immortal. Neither age nor illness can touch them, they just…live forever. I…I want to become immortal, exactly as they are.” Alec glanced at Raziel, wondering if such a thing was even possible; knowing he couldn’t have asked for anything less. This was it, this was what he wanted. His one true desire. Forever. “Please.”

Raziel gazed back at Alec, silent for a moment, then nodded once more.

“And you are ready to bear the consequences wishing for eternity will harbor?”

He didn’t even think to ask what those might be. Anything was worth this.

“I am.”

So Raziel smiled, generous and whole and bright as the invisible golden sun, with a mercy Alec felt rushing through his heart that wasn’t there, purifying his veins of all doubt and pain and hurt, with endless love, and solitude, and grace.

“Then it shall be done.”

Alec was out like a light.

 

*

 

**iii. rebirth**

 

He awoke with an inhale that almost ripped his chest apart from impact, pulled up into sitting with the force of it, coughing up his lungs as his soul settled against the back of his spine. One moment he felt it, as if an intruder, the next they were one and he was whole again, neurons firing uselessly from sensory overload. His skin was tingling, the warmth of a golden light ebbing away, and he heard chirping, and smelled blood, and tasted lime lemonade and his head was gonna explode and yet - he felt whole again. Stretching out a hand in front of him, Alec spread his fingers wide, and made a fist from them, testing, ignoring his own heavy panting. Everything felt real. He was real. A quick glance up revealed the same storage hall he had died in, now devoid of any movement. Nothing left but the weak yet nasty smell of sulfur and demon ashes covering the ground. 

He was back. He was _alive_.

Then, he remembered. Pat down himself and found, where there’d been a hole in his body, a hole in his once-grey still-wet bloodsoaked t-shirt - edges frayed - and underneath: unblemished skin. No more holes. Not even any pain, miraculously, just a gentle discomfort like was usual after using the iratze on a fresh cut, a sensitivity of newly healed flesh he was so used to he was already forgetting about it. Why, then, were his cheeks all wet, as if he’d held his face out into rain?

Running the back of his hand over one, he pulled it away and, calmed by the clear of the liquid, licked it to try. Salty. Tears. Why on earth were there-

Oh.

Behind him, Magnus was sunk to the floor in the slowly drying puddle of Alec’s blood - that was a damn big puddle, did he really lose _that_ much of it - his lap right where Alec’s head must have rested, his cheeks tear-streaked, and nose running, and eyes red and white and wide as moons, shock slacking his mouth open with only silence coming out. 

Immediately, Alec scrambled to his knees, robbed closer until they were face to face, and pulled Magnus into an embrace, as fierce as he could muster, as fierce as his weak arms would allow him to hug, with all the strength he had in him, for here was the reason he was still there to do so. Here was the reason for why he wanted to be there at all. 

After a moment of hesitation, he could feel Magnus’ hands settle on his back, gentle at first, holding still and then clawing into the slick material of Alec’s jacket with a rough, heartshattering sob, pulling him in and in still, until Alec was practically sitting in Magnus’ lap, face buried in his shoulder. 

“You- you were-”

It sounded choked on, like Magnus had used too many tears to have air to speak. Like he’d unlearned how to talk, even though Alec seemed to have been gone for minutes only. He’d been gone, though, _really_ gone, he knew he had.  
Magnus knew that, too. Magnus had to sit there, and watch him die, _again_ , and Alec was sure he’d done everything he could have to save him, which made it all just that much worse. Tears welled up in his throat and stung in his eyes, for himself and for the pain he’d already caused this man that meant his whole life, and Alec held Magnus closer than possible, he had to or else he’d fall apart.  

He knew what it was like to fear for Magnus’ life, the absolute terror of uncertainty and worry that settled over you like a cloak but he couldn’t - wouldn’t - imagine what it was like to lose him. To truly, actually lose him. Magnus could. Magnus did. Twice. 

The words rushed out of him like a mantra, a tremor of syllables repeated over and over in between sniffles so they could pacify them both. So they would speak aloud, make real, what was both a miracle, and a truth.

“I’m here, I’m here, baby. I’m here. It’s okay. I’m right here.”

After a long moment of squeezing each other so hard Alec temporarily stopped breathing, Magnus pulled back just enough to take Alec’s face into his hands, run careful thumbs along the lines of it, looking him up and down, again and again, as if he couldn’t believe his own eyes. 

“I could- I felt you slip from me and there- there was nothing I could do, I tried everything and you were just- I felt you _dying_ , Alec- you...you lost so much blood…you…how?”

“I-”

How was Alec to explain _that_? How was he supposed to put into words that the way Magnus loved him was the reason he was sitting there, breathing at all? That the way he loved Magnus was what had given him the chance to come back? To stay? 

Alec wondered, and while he wondered he got lost in Magnus’ beautiful eyes and the way grief-soaked sadness wasn’t quite gone from them yet, the way he seemed still afraid that Alec could vanish from his arms at any moment, holding him like he was something precious, and wonderous, and loved; holding him like he would never let him go, ever again. 

His chest tightened in a familiar way, and before he knew it, Alec’d leaned in, eyes falling shut, and their mouths met, all wet and tear-stained - in needed resistance.  
It reminded Alec, this kiss, of one they had shared in front of the institute at noon of one of the worst best days of his life, the way it was almost painful with force, lips pressing together hard, and reassuring. It wasn’t quite about passion. It was about trying to express the inexpressable feeling sitting heavy in his chest, this simplest yet most profound of emotions, this most important one.

_Thank you for being here, with me. Thank you for being alive._

Pulling back, Alec’s nose brushed along Magnus’, and he grinned, inappropriately brazen, suddenly realizing what had bothered him this whole time. 

“Where're all the demons, anyway?”

Cheeks pulling up as he watched him, almost like he couldn’t help it, Magnus smiled back, lips pressed thin.

“I- got rid of them.”

“All of them?” There’d been some three dozen, maybe more, if he remembered correctly. He knew what Magnus could do, was aware of the immense ability he held in his palms, but being showcased another mindblowing example of his true powers…the room was covered in nothing but ashes. He had left behind nothing but ashes. In an exhale, Alec's lips fell apart.

“Well, I came in and you were laying there and there was- all that blood and I really didn’t have any time to waste so I…did some magic. I _am_ the High Warlock of Brooklyn, Alexander. On my second run, too.”

Magnus huffed a little in the end, all drama and private amusements, as if making fun of the feat would diminish the effort but when Alec focused on the signs, he could see them immediately. The tiredness in the line of his brow. The slight slump in his shoulders he tried hard to hide. The slowness in the way his smile spread when he caught Alec’s narrow-eyed gaze. Magnus was exhausted. He himself was exhausted. He was so, so exhausted. What they needed, were steaks. And extra-shot martinis. And a bath. A long, hot, foamy bath in their beloved tub with all the scented extras you could imagine. 

Alec leaned their foreheads back together and exhaled through his nose. This was real. They were okay. Every aching muscle in his body was making sure he knew that he was back with the living. Every second he spent in his arm was making sure Alec knew Magnus was right there with him. Their lips fell back together on their own, like magnets, but softer, slower, out of want now, more than need. Alec’s heart surged in his chest, a swell that was so very typical for when Magnus was kissing him like this, with a hand warm against his neck, like they had all the moments in the world and he'd make Alec remember every last one, and he felt a smile, full of anticipation, spread against another.

“Thank you, for saving my life,” Alec murmured with genuine sincerity, and then, kiss pressed into Magnus’ mouth corner, “I love you.”

Against his temple, Magnus’ nose bridge slid up along his cheek bone and Alec could feel if not see the way his eyes pressed all the way shut. The sniffly breath hitting his jaw was warm, hiding away another brush of lips against skin. 

“I love you, too. Thank you, for coming back to me.” 

Like this, they remained, for a few moments longer, lingering in the feeling of being together, pressed close shoulder to hip. Magnus’ fingers drew shapes onto Alec’s lower back, no doubt constantly checking for internal injuries on the side since Alec could feel the gentle waves of magic wafting up and down his spine. He wanted to say something, assure Magnus that he was fine, that he _knew_ he was fine, but he also knew Magnus needed this the same way Alec needed to keep holding onto him, needed to get him home and into bed for a good night’s rest. 

They were stupid about each other like that, had grown into this over the course of too many life-or-death situations, too many times where sacrifice was what had to be given and coming back home at the end of the day was a blessing rather than commonplace. There was no true rationality about it, just the steady, almost physical need to make sure the other was alright, to confirm an “I’m okay” thrice over because they knew each other better than that. Alec carried two heartbeats inside his chest instead of one, and so did Magnus. That was what love was about. To carry his heartbeat right next to yours.

At last, Alec peeled himself away a little, though reluctantly. His phone had made a sound in his jacket pocket and Magnus fished it out for him, unlocking the device with one hand while the other kept a steady hold on Alec.

“Izzy says they managed to secure the perimeter and purify the location. There’s no more demon activity. Asks if you’re alright on your end, says Jace complained of his rune burning.”

Still leaning against Magnus’ shoulder, Alec glanced up and grunted noncommitally, which prompted Magnus into a soft chuckle, and a one-hand response Alec didn’t care to look over. He was just glad his siblings and friends were apparently fine; nothing else really mattered. 

“So it’s over?” 

Magnus sighed and stuffed Alec’s phone back into his jacket. 

“It is, I believe. I can’t feel any more activity, either. Alexander, are you-” 

Nuzzling back against Magnus’ neck in relief, Alec closed his eyes and inhaled as if he’d never breathed before. He was back where he belonged. Everyone was safe. Magnus smelled of Alec's favorite aftershave. What else was there to wish for?

“Let’s get outta here? There's…so much I have to tell you 'bout but I’d really rather we take a shower first.” 

Magnus laughed into his ear at that, concern slipping under sweetness, cheek brushing along cheek with the movement of it, and then his chin was pressed into Alec’s shoulder once more, nose in his hair, and they were hugging, holding each other tight. 

“You know how much I enjoy showers,” and then, almost inaudible against his neck, a mantra of Magnus' own, "I love you. I love you, I love you, I love you."

 

*

 

**iv. epilogue: consequences**

 

“So…that’s it then?”

They were sitting across one another at an outdoors café table for two and next to them, mundanes were rushing by in dozens, the street filled with daytime noise and cabs honking in protest. It was New York.

Alec took a long, hot sip of his takeaway coffee, almond latte no syrup, and wondered why he wasn’t feeling regret over this. He was pretty sure he was supposed to…if not regret then at least a semblance of remorse, some sign of loss. But the calm inside his heart was serene and undisturbed; it had been three and a half days and despite another demon attack having hit just 38 hours ago, Alec was calm all the way to his fingertips. It had been three and a half days, but already, peace was something he could couple a feeling to.

Carefully, he put his cup down and turned it round and round until the coffee shop slogan showed up to face him. ‘Have a coffee, have a good day.’

“Yeah, I guess so.”

When he looked up, Jace was giving him a stare that he knew all too well. It was one he’d grown up with, grown annoyed with at times. Now, it was worth a mild smile, that astonished half-grin ‘that’s it?’ stare of his brother’s that always made him focal point of any conversation, any issue.

Instead of waiting for the argument to come, Alec made one of his own.

“It’s for the best, really.” 

He meant it. He meant it, because in that moment, his brother’s face changed expression and Alec had almost unlearned how to read it without asking. 

It had been three and a little days since Alec had discovered his parabatai rune to be gone, pointed out by a very helpful warlock fiancé when Alec had been too tired to even pull his own not-so-much-shirt off for a post-death bath and two and a half days since his mind had reminded him that he should probably do something about that, even though he didn’t really feel all that different. Not in a bad way, at least. 

The reality he ended up faced with was this: Alec could live without his parabatai bond. Regret was not a word he considered part of his vocabulary where it came to the decision he’d made. On the contrary, if having to lose the warrior bond connecting him to his brother was his way to be allowed eternity, Alec would do it a million times over again.  
He could fight alongside Jace at any moment, nothing was stopping him from doing so. But getting to spend forever by Magnus’ side was something he had never dared to hope for, knowing that the desire for it would have been too great a thing to live with for however many given years. And now he had it, held it within him like his very own omamori charm. 

God, it was so worth it. 

So if this, an uncomfortable conversation with Jace and losing something he probably wouldn’t miss, was the height of consequences he’d have to face, he was more than willing to bear them. After all…

“Do you really mean that?”

Alec glanced away from the passers-by and shrugged. Jace would get over it, Alec had no doubt about that. Alec was already over it. This connection between them, it was a glorified version of what he had with Izzy, too, or any person he truly trusted with his life, just with a whole bunch of downsides he was finally able to see with clear eyes. He’d be fine without it. They both would. They were still them, after all, just a little wiser.

“I do. We’ll still fight together, nothing will change about that.”

Jace leaned back, and exhaled, clapping his thighs. 

“To be honest, I don’t get why your rune disappeared after your revival, when mine came back…but whatever,” he grinned, resembling Izzy so much in that moment, “I’m glad you’re not dead, Alec.”

“Yeah,” Alec smiled, and took another sip of coffee. 

He didn’t know why his rune had disappeared, either, but he had a faint idea, one that reminded him of sea winds, and an endless beach, and knowing exactly what you want in life. 

“Yeah, I’m glad, too.”

**Author's Note:**

> yell your thoughts @ me, thanks
> 
> also yes, this was inspired by all you fools always yelling about how alec would just,,,,,,,,,Not Die Period, like? he's gay, he's immortal, end of story tbh


End file.
